


The Woman in the Polyphobic Metamaterial Suit

by pauraque



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Time Travel, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: WhenVoyagerencounters a wayward time traveler from Starfleet's forgotten past, Seven of Nine must gain her trust if she is to help Commander Burnham get home—wherever and whenever that may be.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway & Seven of Nine, Michael Burnham & Seven of Nine
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35
Collections: Friendship Flash Fall 2020, Women of Star Trek





	The Woman in the Polyphobic Metamaterial Suit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kira_katrine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira_katrine/gifts).



> Takes place after Discovery's season two and late in Voyager's season five. Many thanks to h. and s. for beta-reading on short notice!

_Report to Sickbay immediately_ was not the most common order for Seven of Nine to receive, and when the doors slid open, she could see nothing to immediately satiate her curiosity—quite the opposite. Sickbay was empty, but for the Doctor and Captain Janeway standing over an unconscious patient.

"Secure that door," Janeway said shortly, and beckoned Seven over as soon as she'd done so.

The patient, Seven realized when she joined them, was not a member of _Voyager_ 's crew. She was human, perhaps thirty years of age, wearing a dark blue uniform of no design that Seven recognized. Her eyes were closed, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks under the harsh medical lighting. Even in unconsciousness, she seemed somehow distressed. Her lips were turned downward in a slight frown.

"Captain?" Seven prompted, unsure of her purpose here.

"While you were in Astrometrics, we detected a burst of tachyon radiation. A sensor sweep revealed a damaged EV suit of unknown origin. This woman was inside." As Janeway explained, her eyes never left the patient's face, searching it as though hoping to glean some information that sensors could not.

Seven knew well that tachyon radiation indicated a temporal distortion, but she intuited that it was best to wait for the captain to broach the subject.

"Lucky for her that we discovered her when we did," the Doctor added. "She was suffering from hypothermia and extensive blood clotting. It may take a few days for her to make a full recovery."

"She was wearing this." Janeway handed Seven a burnished brass badge in the shape of a Starfleet insignia.

Turning it over in her fingers, Seven read the name BURNHAM, MICHAEL and a serial number.

"How did a Starfleet officer arrive in the Delta quadrant?" Seven asked, refraining for the moment from asking any of the other obvious questions that presented themselves in her mind.

"I don't know," Janeway replied, her eyes narrowing, "but I intend to find out. Can you wake her, Doctor?"

"Certainly." He readied the hypospray, but the captain held up a hand.

"And—I apologize, Doctor—but would you mind giving us some privacy once she's revived? I promise to reactivate you if it's at all necessary."

He hesitated, but nodded assent. "Of course, Captain." And after delivering the hypospray to the patient's neck, he dutifully deactivated himself, leaving the three of them alone.

The woman's eyes fluttered open. She blinked blearily up at them, as if trying to clear her vision.

"Where—" She only croaked out one word before being overcome with a fit of coughing.

Janeway took a flask of water from the table and helped her sit up enough to drink as she answered: "You're aboard the USS _Voyager_. Am I right in thinking that your next question is going to be, ' _When_ am I?'"

The woman gratefully swallowed and cleared her throat. "How did I get here?" she managed, her voice still hoarse. She looked up at them from one to the other; Seven noticed that her eyes lingered over her ocular implant slightly longer than expected.

"You tell me," Janeway retorted. "We know your name is Michael Burnham—or at least you have Burnham's insignia. We know you're wearing a Starfleet uniform—a kind I haven't seen since my last trip to the Fleet Museum—but our computers show no record of a Michael Burnham serving in Starfleet, past or present. We know you were found in an EV suit that was emitting massive amounts of tachyon radiation, which strongly suggests to me that you are _not_ from the twenty-fourth century. So let's not beat around the bush. What time did you come from, and why are you here now?"

The woman's dark, almond-shaped eyes sharpened and brightened as she listened to all this, and Seven felt she could almost see the rapid calculations behind them—a quick mind going into high warp.

"I won't insult your intelligence by denying it," Burnham said, her voice forcedly calm. "You're right—this is not my time. It's also not the time I need to get to. I need you to give me back my suit and let me go."

Janeway's expression softened slightly. "You're not a captive here. But your suit is damaged, and you're not exactly in top shape yourself."

Burnham's eyes closed, her brows knit painfully. "I need to fix it," she said, shaking her head. "I need to _go_. And if you know as much about time travel as you seem to, then you also know why I can't tell you anything more."

*

Seven found herself disconcerted as she followed the captain into the conference room. Not at the prospect of meeting a time traveler—aboard _Voyager_ , that had begun to seem routine—but something about Burnham's face, struck so heavily with frustration and distress... it preyed on her mind, appearing again and again in her memory, unbidden.

"I don't like keeping the rest of the crew in the dark," Janeway said, by way of apology for all the other empty chairs as the two of them sat down at the table. "But you and I are the only two people on board this ship who know the full extent of our past dealings with time travelers, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't want to risk creating more paradoxes that someone's going to have to clean up."

"I understand, Captain," Seven replied, though acutely aware that, in fact, she herself knew slightly more about those dealings than Janeway did.

"I thought you would." Janeway folded her hands on the tabletop and leaned in. "Now. Do you think she could be one of Braxton's agents?"

"I consider it unlikely. The construction of her suit is quite primitive even compared with our own technology, let alone that of the twenty-ninth century. The Doctor's report indicates that she herself shows signs of past medical and dental interventions consistent with a life lived in the twenty-third century."

"And yet, there's no record that she ever existed, in the twenty-third century or in any other."

"Perhaps she comes from an alternate timeline," Seven suggested, "and in the course of her temporal actions she has erased herself from our own."

Janeway pushed back from the table and gazed pleadingly up at the ceiling. "Oh boy, here we go..."

"Captain?"

"Nothing, you're fine." She shook her head and rubbed at her temple. "We need to consider every possibility, no matter how much of a headache it gives us."

Seven hesitated. "It is difficult to speculate with so little information. I believe we should try to persuade Commander Burnham to reveal more."

"I'm still not convinced she _is_ a commander," Janeway remarked. "But in any case, she hasn't been very forthcoming."

Seven found herself unsure of how to phrase her suggestion, feeling as though the words were fitting themselves into place even as she spoke them—an unusual sensation for her. "Burnham has awoken in a strange place, among people who consider her dangerous. Just as we do not know her intentions, she does not know ours. I suspect she is distraught over her situation, and may respond to a more... sympathetic approach."

A smile curled the side of Janeway's mouth, and she tilted her head, peering at Seven softly. "You know what? You may be right. Why don't you talk to her—just you. Two people asking questions feels like an interrogation. One person just might feel like a friend."

"Just me?" Seven echoed, slightly alarmed. "Are you certain?"

Janeway nodded. "I was hostile towards Burnham from the start," she admitted, "but she has no preconceived notions of you. I need some time, anyway—no pun intended. I have some ideas on how to dig a little deeper into the Starfleet database. You can do this, Seven."

Though not as confident as the captain in her abilities, Seven nodded in acceptance and stood up to go.

"Oh, Seven?"

"Captain?"

"Let me ask you something, and I want you to be brutally honest— Is it me? Am I doing something that makes things like this happen to us? Am I broadcasting some kind of subspace beacon that's screaming out _Causality paradoxes welcome, time travelers drink free_ , anything like that?"

Seven raised an eyebrow, considering. "None that my ocular implant can detect. Perhaps it is attributable to some action you are going to take in a future timeline."

Janeway breathed out through her nose. "Good one. Your jokes are improving."

"Thank you, Captain," Seven replied, electing not to reveal that she wasn't entirely kidding.

*

When Seven returned to Sickbay, Burnham was propped up in bed and looked slightly more relaxed, though still weak and exhausted. There were dark, bruise-like circles under her eyes. She was eating some oatmeal from a bowl.

"How is your recovery progressing, Commander?" Seven asked.

"Are you a doctor?" Burnham countered.

"No," Seven admitted after a brief hesitation. deciding to avoid lying to Burnham if at all possible. "I was only making a polite inquiry."

"Fingers almost free of frostbite," Burnham replied, raising a hand and wriggling her digits to demonstrate that they were no longer bluish-white, but now a healthy brown. "Didn't take long either. Your doctor is good."

"He is," Seven agreed, wondering what this person from a century ago would think if she knew she was being treated by a hologram.

"I mean, he must be." Burnham set her bowl down and glanced around the room with its empty biobeds. "I haven't seen a single other patient. So either the doctor is really good, or..." She raised her shoulders in a tight shrug. "...you don't want anyone else to know I'm here."

"You are perceptive."

"And you don't trust time travelers."

"The captain is highly suspicious of them," Seven conceded, "and not without reason. I perceive things differently, at least in this case."

Burnham rested her head back against the biobed and rolled her eyes with a tired, humorless smile. "Don't tell me you're gonna do the good-cop-bad-cop routine."

Seven wasn't familiar with the expression, but gathered the jist. "That is not my intention. I want to help you. I realize that you are... in pain."

"Not so much anymore. See?" She flexed her fingers again, no longer stiff with the cold of space.

"That is not what I mean," Seven said, having an uncomfortable sense of drifting without navigational instruments. "I believe the failure of your mission, whatever it may be, is causing you genuine suffering."

"Funny, you don't look Betazoid." Despite the flippant remark, a shadow had passed behind Burnham's eyes.

"I am not. But I do wish to help you. It would be an easier task to repair your suit if you could share information with us on its function—"

Alarmed, Burnham struggled to sit up straighter in bed, and reached out to grasp Seven's wrist. For an ill woman, her grip was strong. " _Please_ don't try to reverse-engineer the suit. It's vitally important that you _don't_ do that."

Seven did not pull away from Burnham's touch. "I assume you are concerned about damaging the timeline. But without our help, I do not see how you can continue your mission. Before we intervened, you were alone and adrift in space. This suggests that you have no allies in this time period."

Burnham's gaze remained intense, but she relaxed slightly back against the biobed. Her grip on Seven's wrist slackened, but she let her hand continue to rest there.

"We do have some experience in these matters," Seven went on. "We are aware of the Temporal Prime Directive and of the harm that the irresponsible creation of paradoxes can do. Time travel has been used extensively by... my people."

"Who are your people?" Burnham asked.

And that, of course, was a question Seven couldn't possibly answer. Humanity was not meant to know of the Collective until well after this woman's time. After an embarrassed pause, she admitted with reluctance, "I cannot tell you that."

"Because you don't want to damage the timeline," Burnham finished grimly. Her fingers slipped away from Seven's hand. "So I guess we're in the same boat, huh?"

"So it would seem."

As Burnham lay back, she suddenly seemed to get very sleepy, as people recovering from illness often do. Her eyes no longer focused so sharply, and their lids began to droop. Accepting that this was all the conversation Burnham was capable of for now, Seven gently pulled the silver blanket a bit further up so that she would be better covered.

"You remind me of a friend of mine," Burnham murmured dreamily. "Keyla. She has a cybernetic implant just like yours. When I first woke up and saw you... for a second, I thought you were her."

Before Seven could formulate any answer to this, Burnham was fast asleep.

*

"I've got something," Janeway announced when they met the next morning. "It's not much—just a fragment from a media report, text only—but the year matches, and there can't have been many women named Michael Burnham." She tapped the PADD with a flourish and turned it around on the table to let Seven see.

"Court-martialed," Seven read aloud, her eyes widening in astonishment. "Life in prison for mutiny? Was this common in the twenty-third century?"

Janeway shook her head vehemently. "Absolutely not. The circumstances must have been beyond egregious. Which makes it all the more extraordinary that I can find _no_ other record of any of this ever taking place."

"So she was not erased from our timeline..."

"But someone certainly worked hard to make it look that way," Janeway concluded. "To see Starfleet records scrubbed this thoroughly, all the way up to a captain's level of security clearance? To make it look like a person never even _existed?_ " She shook her head. "I don't know what to make of it. But it certainly puts a new angle on Burnham's reticence to talk about what she's doing here, doesn't it?"

Seven found herself spinning a thousand scenarios that would make Burnham an innocent victim in this, but resisted what she recognized as an incipient bias. "You believe she is a fugitive from justice?"

Janeway tilted her head slowly from side to side, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "I'm not sure yet what I believe."

"I thought you believed in second chances." Seven felt the words slip out before she could stop them.

"I do," Janeway said with a warning quirk of her eyebrow. "As you know very well. B'Elanna has been examining the EV suit," she went on, her change of subject sounding slightly pointed. "She says it contains the depleted remains of a time crystal, if you can believe that." She shook her head ruefully. "No wonder Burnham didn't make it to the time period she was aiming for. As far as temporal technology goes, time crystals are one step above a horse and buggy."

"So you have taken Lieutenant Torres into your confidence on this matter as well?"

Janeway raised her hands defensively. "I know, I know. So much for circumspection." She sighed deeply. "The longer Burnham stays on board, the more likely it gets that someone is going to do or say something that breaks causality and brings the Department of Temporal Investigations down on our heads. _Again_."

"They might be especially angered by it occurring again so soon after the last incident," Seven pointed out. "Assuming that the temporal authorities even think in such terms."

Janeway pursed her lips to the side. "We need to find out what she's up to so we can get her off this ship as soon as possible. And I _do_ think in those terms. Were you able to get anything from her?"

"Some. She asked that we not attempt to learn the inner workings of the EV suit—she was insistent on that point, as if believing that such knowledge would lead to disaster. She also mentioned... but perhaps this detail is irrelevant..."

"No detail is irrelevant. Not with a temporal mystery on our hands."

Seven hesitated, feeling a twinge of guilt for repeating her conversation with Burnham, even though that was the entire purpose of her visit to Sickbay. "She... told me that she had a friend who had a facial cybernetic implant that looked similar to my own. She said this friend's name was Keyla."

Janeway rubbed the side of her neck thoughtfully. "Hmm. Could have been someone she served with. Maybe I can find something in Starfleet's medical records." Janeway pulled over her desktop console and began swiftly searching the database, cross-referencing names, dates, and facial injuries that might require cybernetic augmentation. "That might all have been scrubbed too, of course, but if I can just find... Oh." Janeway's eyes opened wider and wider as they flicked back and forth over the screen, taking in the results. "Oh my."

"You've found something significant?" Seven prompted, unsure of why she felt such a knot of anxiety in her abdomen.

"You might say that," Janeway replied grimly, and turned the console so that Seven could see.

*

When Seven next entered Sickbay, Burnham seemed more alert, sitting up straighter.

"Hello, Not-Doctor," she greeted her, with a smile so fleeting that Seven wasn't sure it was truly there. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to ask you further questions," Seven said. "I apologize... I know you do not want to answer."

Burnham's face now turned undeniably grave, as though it had been so since the beginning of time. "I may not be _able_ to answer."

Seven nodded her understanding, but went on quickly, as though she could make it less painful that way: "We have learned that you have a criminal record in your time, which someone made great efforts to conceal."

That quick-calculating gleam in her eyes again. "I don't suppose there's any point denying it," Burnham gritted out. Her jaw worked tightly... in anger at being caught? Or in swallowed pride at all the context she wasn't able to offer?

"In addition, circumstantial evidence suggests that you once served aboard the USS _Discovery_ , which was lost with all hands. Is this true?"

The tendons of Burnham's neck trembled, and, to Seven's surprise, a tear fell from the corner of each eye, even as she held Seven's gaze stone-steady. "I hope it isn't."

Though they were alone in Sickbay, Seven still lowered her voice, as though the universe might overlook a breach of causality if it were done secretly enough. "Is it your mission to prevent the _Discovery_ 's destruction?" she asked.

Burnham paused for a moment, during which Seven had the distinct sensation of being frankly assessed for trustworthiness. It was something she had felt many times since her de-assimilation. As in those other instances, she didn't attempt to force a demeanor of friendliness or honesty. She simply stood as herself, and remained optimistic that she would be judged on her own merits.

"Given what I've seen here, in this time," Burnham said at last, picking through her words carefully, "I believe my primary mission has already succeeded. I also believe the _Discovery_ is safe, and all that's left for me to do is join them." Despite the implication that the latter was a secondary goal, Burnham's voice was steel-edged as she stated it.

"By completing the time jump that you intended, prior to your suit's failure," Seven concluded, and Burnham didn't contradict her. "Meaning that the logical course would be to allow us to help you repair the suit."

Again, the steel edge: "I can't let you do that."

"Yet, equally, you can't abandon your crewmates. A paradox of a different type," Seven observed.

Burnham let out a sigh and leaned back against the biobed, her mouth twisting sourly.

After a moment, Seven ventured to place her hand carefully on the bed, near Michael's arm. "As improbable as it may seem," she began quietly, "not long ago, I myself was put in the position of traveling through time to save the lives of my... my friends. There were great risks, both to the timeline and to myself. I have kept these events secret—some details I have even kept from the captain—to avoid unnecessary temporal disturbances. I trust that they would do the same for me. And I will gladly do it for you, so that you, too, can be safely reunited with those you care for."

Again, Burnham searched Seven's face like a high-band sensor sweep. Seven wondered what had occurred in this woman's life to make her so intensely wary of deception.

Eventually, Burnham spoke, and her voice was subtly warmer, in what might even have been a note of gentle irony: "So, you do a lot of time travel in this century?"

"More than some would prefer," Seven admitted dryly.

Burnham breathed a small laugh. "Then I guess it's only logical to leave myself in the hands of the experts."

*

"And if you're wrong about Burnham?" Janeway asked, rotating her chair from side to side at the conference table. She wasn't angry, but bluntly challenging. "If she's a wanted criminal fleeing through time, and we're helping her escape? If letting her go now is what allows her to commit those crimes? What then?"

Seven stood before her with her hands clasped behind her back, which prevented them from trembling. Confrontations with the captain had been far easier in her early days aboard _Voyager_ , when she was not yet invested in what any individual thought of her—when she didn't even yet understand the significance of disagreement, of embarrassment, or of failing to meet expectations.

"Being on this ship has taught me the meaning of trust," Seven stated. "I have learned that situations arise in which revealing everything one knows can be detrimental, and that an assumption of good faith may be based more on subjective intuition than on objective evidence. Having spoken to Commander Burnham several times, my... intuition consistently indicates to me that she is worthy of trust, and that her evasiveness is due to a sincere belief that satisfying our curiosity about her mission would endanger the integrity of the timeline."

Janeway rested her chin in her hand, gazing at Seven contemplatively. "I've learned a lot about trust on this ship, too," she answered after a moment. "More than I ever thought possible."

Seven felt her face grow a fraction of a degree warmer.

Her expression falling into what Seven recognized as a settled decision, Janeway rose from her seat. "Let's do it," she said firmly. "I have faith in your judgement." A sly smile glittered in her eyes. "And any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

*

"We've replaced your depleted time crystal with a collapsed chroniton lattice," Lieutenant Torres explained, drawing the rough shape of the structure in the air with her hands. "Everything else, the user interface, the micro-wormhole generation rate, should function just as it did before. Except, you know, it'll actually... work, this time." She gave an awkward, half-defensive shrug. "No offense."

"None taken," Burnham replied, suppressing a smile. She brushed her fingertips lightly over the shoulder of the repaired EV suit where it stood empty in the shuttlebay and shook her head. "I can't tell you how fast we had to throw this suit together... I mean, I literally _can't_ tell you," she clarified, leveling the three twenty-fourth century women with a suddenly serious look.

"I know," Janeway said. "And that's completely fine. All the data we collected about you and your suit will be wiped from our database as soon as you leave. We don't want to risk any more anomalies."

"Thank you, Captain. Your computer may forget this, but I can assure you, I won't."

"Good luck." Janeway extended her hand. "Commander."

Burnham clasped it with a nod of respect, then shook hands with Torres too. Seven, standing beside them, began to reach out her hand in turn, but instead Burnham wrapped her arms around her in a hug.

"Thank you for trusting me," she said into Seven's shoulder.

Though she stiffened in surprise, and felt Torres and Janeway's astonished eyes upon her, Seven nonetheless cautiously placed her hands on Commander Burnham's back.

"And thank you for doing the same," she said.


End file.
